


Gonna Hold The Line

by kissesfromkrug



Series: 5 + 1 [7]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 5 + 1 Things, Edmonton Oilers, Established Relationship, Fluff, Grinding, Language, M/M, major character death (background)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 07:37:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10917306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissesfromkrug/pseuds/kissesfromkrug
Summary: Taylor was first on Ryan’s contact list.Ryan wasn’t supposed to go this soon.





	Gonna Hold The Line

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "Fighter" by (again) Lovex.  
> This work is entirely fictional (we're pretending Taylor never got traded), and any mistakes can be pointed out. No profit taken from this. :)

•1•

Taylor doesn’t quite know what’s happening when he first wakes up by Ryan’s side. The brunet is snoring softly, arm draped over Taylor’s side with the blankets up to both of their waists. Taylor simply stares for seconds that stretch into minutes—hell, maybe even to _hours_ before he comes to his senses. “Fuck,” he murmurs, shifting his legs out of bed to find that he’s completely naked. With one look at the other side of the bed, he deduces that Ryan is too.

Taylor pulls his sweatpants up his legs, stumbling out of the room and to the bathroom. He stares at his reflection, marveling at all the red marks along his collarbone. He catches a glimpse of his bare back when he turns to grab the toothpaste from the floor—who knows why it’s there or how it got there—and he freezes in place.

It looks like an animal tried to claw its way up his back. Red, swollen scratches run down the length of it and down his sides, and his jaw drops open. “Holy shit…” He reaches back and runs his fingers over the scratches, wincing in pain and wondering how he didn’t notice them before.

“Hallsy?” Ryan’s voice calls to him from the bedroom. Taylor drops his hand and grabs the fallen toothpaste.

“Yeah?”

“Just wanted to make sure you were still here,” Ryan answers, a little softer this time. Taylor stares at his face in the mirror and sighs. He sets down the toothpaste next to his toothbrush and reenters the bedroom.

“Yeah, I am.” Ryan smiles up at Taylor as he sits on the bed. It’s not like they’ve never done this before—far from it, in fact—but they’ve never _stayed_ together like this.

“Good.” He reaches up, laces his arms around Taylor’s neck, and brings him into a deep kiss that doesn’t fail to bring back all the memories from the previous night. Taylor pulls back, breathless as he murmurs,

“You fucking destroyed me.” Ryan chuckles and is about to correct him, about to say that no, _he’s_ the one who’s destroyed, but Taylor grabs one of Ryan’s hands and brings it to his back. “I’m gonna get so much shit for this.” He turns around, and Ryan sucks in a harsh breath. “You need your fucking nails cut or _something_.”

“You’ll love the attention,” Ryan whispers, fingertips trailing over each and every scratch. “You know you will.” Taylor groans and drops his chin to his chest, knowing that Ryan’s right. He’s, like, _always_ right.

•2•

“Hey.” Taylor blinks awake, face scrunching up at the light.

“Wha’s happen’n—hm?” He mumbles incoherently, rubbing his eyes as a kiss is pressed to his lips.

“Hey,” Ryan repeats and stares down at him with a smile. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

“I’m not—”

“Then get up, you lazy ass,” Ryan insists, pushing at Taylor’s shoulder. “I want food.”

  
“Then go get it,” Taylor says, wondering if Ryan will go away if he pretends to fall back asleep. Probably not.

“But I wanna eat with you.” Taylor opens one eye halfway, still not entirely used to Ryan’s spontaneous playful side as he ducks down and places sweet kisses all over Taylor’s face.

“If I get up, will you move?” Taylor asks.

“Maybe.” Ryan nuzzles into Taylor’s shoulder, curling up as Taylor grudgingly sits up. He follows him to the kitchen, chest pressed to Taylor’s back as he gets them breakfast from the cupboard.

“Are you gonna let go?” Taylor asks, secretly relishing in Ryan’s body heat.

“Only if you want me to,” Ryan answers with an obvious grin in his voice. Taylor sighs, rolls his eyes, and turns around to kiss Ryan on the mouth.

“Not really, but we kinda really need to eat. Didn’t you say you were hungry, like, two minutes ago?”

“Yeah, but you…” Ryan looks up at him through his eyelashes, and Taylor has to kiss him again just for that.

“ _God_ , you’re so pretty.”

•3•

The first thing Taylor sees when he wakes up is Ryan’s nose. He’s only confused for a moment, a pair of soft lips meeting his own. He reaches up and wraps an arm around Ryan’s naked waist. He sits up in bed and pushes the blanket off his lap, making a cradle of his bare hips that Ryan comfortably settles into as he kisses him deeper.

“Why can’t I wake up to this every day?” Taylor murmurs, nose pressed against Ryan’s as they stare into each other’s eyes.

“‘Cause management sucks,” Ryan says. 

 _They aren’t the only ones,_ Taylor thinks, smirking to himself.

“They think Nail needs more help on the road than he actually does. And they don't listen to what I want.”

“What kind of help do they think he needs?” Taylor asks in a voice reminiscent of their previous lust-filled evening. Ryan stares at him intently, eyes going dark.

“Well, I can tell you what kind of help I _don’t_ give him.” Taylor opens his mouth, but his words are turned into a gasp as Ryan slowly grinds down on him, sparks flying up his spine as Ryan's dick brushes his. “I don’t let him touch me,” Ryan breathes, grabbing Taylor’s hands and putting them on his hips. “Not like you do.”

“You better fucking not let him touch you,” Taylor growls, squeezing Ryan and leaning in to mouth at his neck. “No one fucking touches you but me.” He nips at Ryan’s pulse point, making his breath hitch. “Keep talking.” He just swallows and tries to regain his composure, but Taylor isn’t having any of it. “ _Ryan_.”

“I don’t let him kiss me,” Ryan rushes out, getting breathier as he rubs off on Taylor’s abs. “He doesn’t—he doesn’t get to see me touch myself either.” Taylor huffs at the thought and bites Ryan’s chin. “Only you.”

“Tell me what I can do to you,” Taylor demands, gripping Ryan tight enough to bruise. “Tell me what you want me to do to you. Tell me everything.”

“I want—“ Ryan struggles to find the words. “Fuck, uh, just—“ Taylor leans closer and slips his tongue between Ryan’s lips, drawing out a breathy moan.

“You don’t let him fuck you,” he tells Ryan when they pull back, voice gravelly as the words all slide together. “Do you?” It’s not even a _question_ , but Ryan shakes his head vigorously and pushes down into Taylor’s hold.

“No,  _G_ _od,_ no,” he gasps, “Please, Taylor, let me—”

“Please what?”

•4•

Ryan’s not technically in bed when Taylor wakes up from his nap, but the smell of cheese from the kitchen gives him a hint as to what he’s been up to. Taylor slowly gets up and pads to find him.

“Hey babe.” He wraps his arms around Ryan’s waist, setting his chin in the curve of his shoulder and watching him stir the pot.

“Hey.” Taylor tilts his head and presses a trail of kisses down Ryan’s exposed neck. “I’m trying to make food, come on,” he fake-whines, but doesn’t move Taylor away.

“I don’t care.” Ryan huffs and rolls his eyes, turning and giving Taylor a chaste kiss before elbowing him in the gut. “I thought you loved meeeeee,” Taylor actually whines, still standing mere inches behind Ryan. He leans his chin on Ryan’s shoulder again, covering his chest protectively and blowing in his ear. Ryan squirms for a moment but ignores him.

“Don’t you want food?” Taylor plops down at the table, waiting until Ryan sets two steaming bowls in front of them. He leans over and kisses Taylor’s cheek, smiling a bit and digging into their lunch.

“What would Coach think of this?” Taylor asks with a mouthful of food. “You think this is on our diet plan?” Ryan punches his arm, and that’s answer enough.

•5•

“Ow, fuck,” Taylor whines, shifting and rubbing at his neck. He looks around for Ryan, who’s comfortably stretched out on the couch. “Lucky.” He uncurls himself and falls on the floor, swearing more profusely than before.

“Mmm…” Ryan rolls over, half-asleep, and falls flat on his face on the hardwood floor. Taylor laughs, only feeling a slight bit of pity. He crawls over to Ryan, looking down as he rolls over and holds his nose. “Ow.”

“Does the little Nugget need some ice for his—” Taylor doesn’t get to finish the sentence before he’s punched in the jaw. “Hey, I was trying to be help—”

“Sure you were,” Ryan frowns, sitting up as Taylor grabs both of Ryan’s wrists and holds them to the couch.

“Seriously though, you okay?” He nods, and Taylor presses a soft kiss to Ryan’s nose.

“Ow.” He unsteadily rises to his feet and complains, “Whose idea was it to sleep on the couch?”

“Ebs,” Taylor answers immediately, getting a mischievous glint in his eye. Ryan sends a crooked smile back at him, and they sneak upstairs to prank their line-mate.

•+1•

The bed is cold when Taylor first wakes up at half past three. As he lies awake, it doesn’t get any warmer. He looks over to his right, where Ryan always used to be. Taylor clenches his jaw as he thinks of his line-mate, his best friend, his _boyfriend_. Every part of Ryan is lost to him.

He doesn’t get to wake up to Ryan’s soft snores, nor stare into his eyes when Ryan finally awakens, nor see his pink lips part with every breath. Taylor watched every single one of Ryan’s interviews just to see how many times he bit his lips or mouthguard.

Taylor doesn’t get to chirp Ryan about his cellies, nor watch him make pancakes in the morning, nor kiss him every night before bed. He can’t give Ryan filthy looks in the locker room, can’t take him apart and make him scream at night, nor hold him tight and shout praises in his ear after a goal. He isn’t able to even _look_ at Ryan anymore, except in photos on his phone.

It’s not Ryan’s fault, it couldn’t be. He couldn’t control anything that happened.

Taylor remembers getting the call when the team was in Dallas. Ryan was in the hospital in Edmonton getting surgery on his shoulder, a procedure that shouldn’t have been problematic in any way. Except that this time, the anesthetist gave Ryan just a bit too much. And by a bit, Taylor means nearly three times as much.

The doctors said that Taylor was first on Ryan’s contact list. Taylor tried to convince Coach to let him leave Dallas early, but he wouldn’t listen, not even when Taylor admitted that it wasn’t just his line-mate, it was his _boyfriend_ suffering all the way up in Canada. 

Ryan needed Taylor just like Taylor needed him. 

Coach wouldn’t hear any of it, didn’t believe Taylor until the next day, when Taylor changed his flight from Colorado to Edmonton.

Taylor remembers how he was too late, that Ryan had held on for as long as he could under the heavy dosage of anesthetic that severely damaged his brain and nervous system. His body just couldn’t handle it.

He remembers cradling Ryan to his chest as all the doctors and nurses left him alone. He’s never sobbed so hard in his life, although…that claim could also be made at Ryan’s funeral.

Taylor screams at the ceiling, tugging at his hair and squeezing his eyes shut. He wishes that he could wake up from the nightmare, Ryan holding him tight and murmuring sweet nothings to him. He wishes that the past three months had never happened, not one bit of them.

If they didn’t exist, then maybe Ryan wouldn’t be gone. Maybe Taylor would wake up by his side again. Maybe they could go back to playing great hockey and having great sex. Maybe they’d be able to love each other the way they were meant to be—until the end of time. Ryan wasn’t supposed to go this soon.

Taylor doesn’t understand, and doesn’t think he ever will. 


End file.
